


breaking through the atmosphere, and things are pretty good from here

by thespottedowl



Series: Goons drabbles [4]
Category: Gøøns (Podcast), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (dooo misses his family and I relate!), (no one gets covid), Alternate Universe - College/University, COVID-19, Crying, Dialogue Light, Established Relationship, Family, Family Fluff, Family Reunions, Financial Issues, Frottage, Homesickness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masks, Men Crying, Not Beta Read, Panic Attacks, alright does anyone know where I can purchase some style consistency? it sounds neat :), also if you can find the plot pls let me know, bc this is rlly just my partner and I as mcdooo, betad? ofc not, college during covid sucks but it's so much better w a partner, getting caught, major tw: coronavirus! this is about college during the covid year!!, oh yeah, only one explicit part, vent fic, you know me!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:40:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28107945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thespottedowl/pseuds/thespottedowl
Summary: “Hey, baby,” McNasty calls, approaching the bed to brush Dooo’s hair out of his eyes. The smaller boy shifts, grabs his wrist groggily, then seems to process who’s touching him. He presses a soft butterfly kiss to McNasty’s palm, and pushes his face into the pillow like a cat who’s been disturbed.“None of that,” McNasty laughs gently, brushing Dooo’s hair down again and letting his hand trail down to his shoulder. “C’mon, we’re gonna go get dinner, do you wanna take a piss first?”Dooo grumbles sleepily, but pushes himself up on his hands. “No,” he says, still groggy but a bit clearer. “W’nna get chicken nuggies.”[title from Sign of the Times by Harry Styles]
Relationships: Eric | McNasty/Eric | TheDooo
Series: Goons drabbles [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029621
Comments: 5
Kudos: 17





	breaking through the atmosphere, and things are pretty good from here

**Author's Note:**

> brain really said brrrr cry about college finish college au! anyway this is me n my partner at college, obvs I'm dooo bc I'm The Mess (tm). might be fun to expand this with some actual plot or getting together or whatever, but I like this one as is, but a stream of consciousness kind of thing. hope you enjoy as well!

He can always tell when Dooo gets homesick. The days where he doesn’t talk with his hands, when he drops sentences halfway through. Sometimes he’ll sit with his guitar for hours at a time, eyes unfocused, plucking out the same tune. McNasty only learned a few weeks ago that it’s a lullaby.

Dooo’s sitting at his desk, chewing through a lamb gyro from the food truck — the only way McNasty can actually keep track of the days of the week, the rhythm of Friday Saturday Sunday night lights and the cheery smell of lamb roasting — and keeps getting distracted by the sun setting on McNasty’s face. He’d be worried for Dooo if it weren’t quite so cute to look up and catch his eyes for the dozenth time.

* * *

Dooo stretches out flat on top of McNasty, tucks his head into his collarbones with a small, unhappy noise. It’s pleasantly warm in the room, and McNasty traces his hand down Dooo’s back.

He keeps reading the paper he has pulled up on his phone -- he has a class in half an hour, and if he’s not going to complete the homework, he’s at least gonna try and read the assignment -- but he hums a small tune distractedly into the quiet room. Dooo’s shoulders shake with frustrated tears, and he presses his face deeper into McNasty’s soft sweatshirt and lets himself be held.

* * *

The masks aren’t comfortable, but they’re normal. They all get used to them. McNasty keeps wearing his for thirty plus hours on accident — he falls asleep in it more times than could possibly be healthy.

He would mind the mask on Dooo’s face a little more, except he can still see the delighted crinkle of the skin around his eyes when he smiles. His eyes almost close every time McNasty makes him laugh, and that’s just enough to tide him over until they get back to their room and kisses his jaw and the corner of his mouth and laughs when Dooo chases his lips for a real kiss every time.

* * *

Dooo sets the facetime up in McNasty’s room, after a little bit of convincing and some puppy dog eyes and a firm, definite promise to stay quiet and off-camera and at least  _ pretend _ like he’s doing something else.

He definitely fails, sets his textbook aside to lay flat on his stomach across his beds and watch the way Dooo lights up when his little sister talks, the way both of them bounce excitedly. Dooo laughs, loud and bright, when his dad cracks a bad joke, watches his mom fondly as she talks big and expressive with her hands. Dooo picks at his nails anxiously beneath the table, and his anxiety is nowhere near alleviated, but his smile is soft and genuine, and there is some healing to be found in the crinkle of his eyes.

* * *

McNasty wakes up to Dooo rolling over in bed to fumble at McNasty’s alarm. They’re in McNasty’s room, tonight, content to enjoy a quiet night without bothering Soup and ignoring homework. McNasty has class in an hour, and he should probably grab food before then, but Dooo is rolling back over slow and lazy like a cat with his own phone in hand and cuddling up to McNasty’s chest and his eyes are closing again of his own volition, warm and pleased in the sun.

Dooo’s muscles go tense under his hands, and before he can even really process it McNasty’s cracking an eyelid, humming out a small, questioning note.

There’s a short, frustrated huff. “Just-” Dooo cuts himself off immediately, and his voice is irritated but there’s underlying layers of sadness and fear so heavy McNasty doesn’t know how he’s not drowning in them. “I woke up, and I was thinking about you and Soup and Blarg, and I forgot about school and shit. Like, everything was fine, but I checked my email and.” He sighs. “I have a message waiting from the bursar.”

McNasty’s heart sinks  _ for _ Dooo. The tension is sitting thickly in the air, then, and he just leans his head against Dooo’s, tightens his grip. Waits for the rest of the words to find their way out.

“I just… I think I lost my scholarship. I didn’t do so great last semester, y’know, and I’m gonna take a leave of absence, and it just- just fuckin’ hit me?” His voice is unbearably wobbly all of a sudden, shrinking in on itself, folding down. “What if… I mean, I- I don’t know if I can come back…”

“We’ll be okay,” McNasty hums, tipping his lips up to press against Dooo’s temple. “And we’ll figure out the rest, too.”

* * *

Gracie’s serves peanut butter and jelly smoothies that are probably supposed to be secret, but the baseball team loves them and when Soup knows McNasty finds out. They’re better without that extra scoop of protein powder that the players take, though.

Dooo’s holding all his books in his hands, so McNasty holds the drink out to him, and of course he definitely doesn’t also push Dooo’s mask out of the way of the straw, because that would be against university policy, and why would they do that?

His eyes go wide at the first sip, and he chases after the straw playfully when McNasty tries to pull the straw away. “Wait, what the fuck?” he asks, and his mask is pushed up to his nose and slips over his eyes when he moves to speak. That sets McNasty off into high-pitched laughter, and Dooo flushes and pulls his mask down but he still flashes a toothy grin at McNasty before he does and grabs for the smoothie again.

* * *

Dooo is panting underneath him, and he’s noisy and eager and so goddamn beautiful McNasty wants to melt into him. He can’t, unfortunately, so he does the next best thing and tightens his grip around their cocks just a hair, pulls rougher on the upstroke and swipes his thumb over Dooo’s tip.

He makes the prettiest noise, then, head tipping back as his mouth forms an ‘o’ and McNasty’s name spills out, interspersed with moans and whines and  _ please _ and McNasty is flush with heat from the image of him panting and pleading alone.

It’s college boy sex, it’s not perfect and McNasty fucking knows that, but on the other hand, they both feel good and they’re both getting off. They’ll figure out the details later, but for now, sloppy and needy, they can manage just by rolling into bed and making out until they’re both hard and rutting against each other desperately.

It doesn’t take long before the heat building low in McNasty’s stomach boils over like a pot left on the heat, turning his strokes messy and quick until he comes, spattering across Dooo’s stomach. Dooo’s shaking underneath him, one leg thrown around McNasty’s waist, but his moans are quickly becoming one long whine, and his thighs tremble as he follows McNasty over the edge.

McNasty’s strokes go long and gentle as he draws Dooo through the last aftershocks, other hand petting through his hair until Dooo mumbles something and pushes his hand away.

“C’mon, gotta get you cleaned up,” McNasty says softly, heart swelling with how Dooo looks up at him, pliant from orgasm and just waiting for McNasty. He swipes over their bellies and his hand with his t-shirt, and is reaching back to drop it by Dooo’s desk so he’ll remember to do the stain treatment later and-

A key turns in the lock.

Dooo’s eyes snap to McNasty’s, and thank god McNasty hasn’t been hit with the post-nut sleepiness yet, because he has the common sense to use the hand that’s already behind him to grab the comforter, throw himself down next to Dooo, and pull the heavy blanket over them both in one smooth motion.

This much adrenaline all at once cannot be good for his heart, McNasty thinks as Soup opens the door to the room.

“Y’all better not be fuckin’ over there,” Dallas says as way of greeting.

“Of course not!” Dooo exclaims, high-pitched and reedy. McNasty has to bury his face in Dooo’s neck to keep himself from laughing at the disbelief on Dallas’s face.

* * *

McNasty ducks into the second door to the bathroom, wrinkles his nose at the general College Bathroom smell, and walks through it to open Dooo’s door. (The RA’s door is open across the hall, and he’s  _ technically _ not supposed to be in Dooo’s room.) 

He is immediately startled by the burst of heat that greets him. He’s sweating in seconds, and as he scans the room he’s already trying to shrug out of his hoodie. 

Dooo is curled up in his bed, back to McNasty. He can’t tell if he’s awake or asleep, but his tiny frame is bundled in a thick knitted sweater and sweatpants, a bafflingly warm outfit and a bizarre fashion choice regardless.

_ What the fuck is going on? _

He dumps his backpack on the ground next to Soup’s shit and crosses the tiny space. The side of the bed that’s not against the wall has the rail up instead, lights wound through it and pillows shoved against the other side. Dooo likes being squished up between the two sides. McNasty thinks he just looks like he’s nesting.

The bar digs into his chin, but he rests his head on it anyway, winds his arms through the gaps. He rests his hand on Dooo’s waist, sneaks his fingers in under his sweater. His skin is burning hot, but he doesn’t do more than murmur groggily at McNasty and bunch up his pillow a little more.

“C’mon, Er,” McNasty says, loud but gentle. (If he whispered it, Eric would never get up. The boy could sleep through World War III.) “The sun’s already gone down, you’re gonna miss dinner. Why’d you turn the heat on?”

“Panic attack,” comes the murmured response. “M’ teeth wouldn’t stop chattering.”

McNasty’s heart melts. 

He moves down to the end of the bed, and he’s halfway glad Dooo isn’t watching him because he has to put his feet on both the chair and the desk to get onto the damn loft bed. Dooo doesn’t respond to him clambering up, nor when he flops down behind him and gently readjusts him into spooning.

It’s still approximately a million degrees in the room, and McNasty can almost taste the heat as he drags in a slow breath, but he gets as comfortable as he can and presses his face into the back of Dooo’s neck, listening to him breathe, jagged but regular huffs of air against his pillow. “You wanna talk about it?” McNasty mumbles into his skin.

Dooo shakes his head, but he still flips over to face McNasty and shuffles down to hide his face in his chest, trading his pillow for McNasty’s arm tucked under his head. 

McNasty watches the moonlight stream into the room, pale light growing longer by the minute, and Dooo’s breathing grows steady after a while, death grip on the front of his shirt easing. He nudges the pillow around with his chin and decides his homework isn’t actually that important. He can always try and stuff one of the sandwiches in his fridge into Dooo later, too. 

One of his teachers called him a problem solver, once, he thinks as he falls asleep at eight pm.

* * *

At least this time when he enters the room Dooo’s thermostat is set to something vaguely resembling normal. Still, it’s verging on seven pm and Dooo hasn’t responded to a text all day.

He’s curled up in his bed, lax face pressing hard into the bunched pillow. He looks content, so much more peaceful asleep with the stress lines smoothed out of his forehead. 

“Hey, baby,” McNasty calls, approaching the bed to brush Dooo’s hair out of his eyes. The smaller boy shifts, grabs his wrist groggily, then seems to process who’s touching him. He presses a soft butterfly kiss to McNasty’s palm, and pushes his face into the pillow like a cat who’s been disturbed.

“None of that,” McNasty laughs gently, brushing Dooo’s hair down again and letting his hand trail down to his shoulder. “C’mon, we’re gonna go get dinner, do you wanna take a piss first?”

Dooo grumbles sleepily, but pushes himself up on his hands. “No,” he says, still groggy but a bit clearer. “W’nna get chicken nuggies.”

McNasty snorts. “We can’t get nuggies, the Commons is already closed, idiot. What time did you even go to bed?”   
  


That seems to wake Dooo up a little bit, and he looks sheepishly at McNasty. “Uhhh… after morning classes?”

It takes an awful lot of willpower not to smack his head into his palms, but McNasty manages to restrain himself to only a heavily disapproving glare. “What happened to fixing your sleep schedule? You would’ve gone to bed at like… noon? One pm?”

Dooo shrugs. “Somethin’ like that. I think I’m gonna stay up through tomorrow? Like, instead of trying to go to bed at midnight, in like… five hours, I’m just gonna stay up all the way until the midnight the day after that.”

“You’re a dumbass,” McNasty reiterates. “But at least get some schoolwork done while you’re up for thirty hours or whatever. You wanna see if Gracie’s has some nuggies?”

His boyfriend’s eyes seem to light up, tone down some of the dull colour creeping in. “Chimcken numget?” he asks delightedly.

“Chimcken,” McNasty confirms. “Maybe some ranibow sprimkle too if you’re lucky.”

* * *

McNasty has never seen Dooo so happy. Even with the heaviness in his own heart, it’s easy for him to break into a smile at the way Dooo bounces on his toes, flings open the door to the building, restrains himself from sprinting as they round the corner to the parking lot. He’s squeezing McNasty’s fingers about to a pulp, but McNasty isn’t sure he even realizes.

Dooo sees them first -- lets out the smallest, most eager gasp, and McNasty barely nudges him with his elbow and he takes off.

The littlest one, the little girl, does the same from her side, and McNasty is almost worried they’re going to crash into each other; they do, but it’s already turned into a hug, and McNasty can see all that emotion wound up inside Dooo start to relax as his eyes go watery. He scoops the little girl up into his arms and jogs over to the rest of his family, is immediately enveloped in a bear hug from his mother, middle sister joining the group reluctantly but with a wide smile spanning her face.

McNasty stands off to the side, just behind them, content to watch Dooo being happy, soak it up in their last day together before they part for a few months.

He’s not expecting to be quite so pleased when Dooobrah turns, extends her arms to him.

**Author's Note:**

> 3/34 wips


End file.
